


Dancing

by Shiny_Pichu



Category: Fairy Tail
Genre: Ballroom Dancing, Comfort, Episode Fix-it, Implied Laxus/Freed, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-16
Updated: 2015-02-16
Packaged: 2018-03-13 06:22:22
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,615
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3371093
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Shiny_Pichu/pseuds/Shiny_Pichu
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"In any case, it's probably the smile that does it."</p>
            </blockquote>





	Dancing

**Author's Note:**

> This was written to accompany episode 24 of the new series.

“Hey. Wanna dance?”

At first, Rogue doesn’t realize _he’s_ the one being asked. His eyes are focused somewhat on the party as a whole, while his thoughts drift to other things. Partly reflecting on everything that’s happened these past several days—the tournament, the battle against the seven dragons, learning of his future self’s involvement—and partly on the promising new future their new guild master swears upon.

He’s never been one for social gatherings anyway, and Rogue assumed standing off to the wall, far off from anything associated with the ball going on in front of him, would send the message that he wasn’t interested in friendly chatter from people he wasn’t well acquainted with or the offer to move to the dance floor. So while Rogue’s ears process the question, he doesn’t move his eyes to focus on the one asking it. That is, until an answer from someone never comes, and the possibility occurs to him with a surprised, somewhat flustered flinch as he turns towards the direction of the voice.

In hindsight, Rogue should have recognized the voice itself before anything else. But his mind had been wandering, after all. And the last he saw Sting, he was dancing with Yukino towards the middle of the room. Rogue hadn’t even noticed that he’d finished, or had weaved through the crowds and tables to come to stand at his fellow guild mate’s side.

“I-I’m sorry?” Rogue stammers out, suddenly unsure of the question now that he knows of its recipient.

The smile on Sting’s face grows to an amused grin on the edge of a laugh, “I said, do you wanna dance?” his offered hand, palm up, hasn’t moved from its place in the open air, waiting for the other man to take it.

Rogue can feel extra warmth crawl up to his face, glad that only part of it is visible from the fall of his hair, “With me? But…”

“Come on, why not?” Sting cuts him off cheerfully, probably already aware of the concern Rogue was going to voice, “Those Fairy Tail guys are getting on just fine.”

Rogue follows the blond’s jab of a thumb over his shoulder, until his eyes land on a pair of men slow dancing on the floor. He recognizes the burly one instantly from part of Fairy Tail’s original B Team, and the one who amazingly took down Jura in the final round of the tournament. But Rogue can’t say he knows the long-haired gentleman with him, although he does bear an oddly striking resemblance to Rufus. But considering the mark of his guild presented clearly on the back of his left hand, Sting was right to assume he was also from Fairy Tail.

Rogue’s gaze moves back to Sting, who’s smiling in anticipation of the shadow dragon slayer’s agreement. Like there isn’t any possible way he’ll say no.

Coming from anyone else, and that sort of arrogance would be irritating. But Sting’s pretty used to getting what he wants, or perhaps he just knows Rogue well enough to anticipate his actions. Maybe he just knows that Rogue knows _him_ well enough to know he isn’t asking out of a frivolous whim or as a joke or just to see how uncomfortable Rogue can get.

In any case, it’s probably the smile that does it.

Sting’s smile has never been this contagious before. Not since they were much younger. Somewhere along the line Sting lost that ability, while Rogue simply stopped smiling altogether. Most likely when they both joined Sabertooth. Only recently has the skill returned. It’s the same sort of grin Sting beamed at him in front of the two dragons. The same smile that seemed to hold the light that burned away the darkness clouding Rogue’s thoughts at that time.

Rogue can’t win against that look. He has to smile along, and agree to anything Sting asks of him.

“…Alright,” he finally answers, like a sigh of defeat despite the pleasure in his facial features, takes a step away from the wall, and places his hand in Sting’s.

For a moment, Rogue thinks it was worth it to agree just to see the way Sting’s face lights up, “Great!” his fingers close around Rogue’s hand, the hold warm like the sun, and he starts leading the other to the dance floor with a chipper, “Just fair warning, I’m leading.”

Rogue chuckles softly in compliance, and let’s himself be gently pulled into the crowd of swaying bodies, looking at Sting’s back rather than at anyone else who might be staring at the two of them.

Once Sting finds a nice empty space for them on the floor, he turns around to face Rogue, who suddenly feels nerves prickling at his skin at the realization that he doesn’t even know _how_ dance. Although he has no idea when Sting learned to.

But again, the blond seems to sense what Rogue’s thinking before he can voice it, and laughs lightly in a way that doesn’t add to Rogue’s self-consciousness.

“Relax. Here—” Sting lets go of the other’s left hand and takes hold of his right, “Now put that hand on my shoulder.” Rogue does so timidly while Sting lifts their clasped hands into the air at shoulder height, and abruptly moves in closer to settle his right hand at the small of Rogue’s back. Rogue jumps a little at that, but Sting’s good-natured chuckle puts him at ease, and before he really understands what’s going on they’re moving, Sting leading their movements smoothly and subtle like they do this all the time. And maybe that was true.

It was a lot like performing Unison Raid, in a way. It isn’t a perfect fit at first. Their two magics—movements—need to work at meshing in the beginning. They aren’t stumbling over each other, per say, but sometimes Rogue doesn’t know where to move until Sting pulls him in that direction, or he _thinks_ he knows the way to go until his partner proves him wrong with a step in the opposite way. But they eventually sync up, and the longer they can stay like that continuously, the tighter those two completely different magics blend and combine, becoming a single entity with ability and potential they could never even hope to achieve alone.

So it isn’t long before Rogue gets the hang of it, and rather than Sting gently pulling the other man along as he leads, they’re both moving at the exact same time without the need of physical or visual cues, as if they were of one mind, body, and soul.

And then it’s as if they’re floating on the dance floor, or skimming along ice. The music is suddenly more pleasant sounding than it was at the far walls, and somehow drowns out the conversations outside this separate world of those turning to the soft melody in the air. Or maybe that’s just Sting’s doing. The way light sometimes catches the eye and holds it there with its dazzling sight, so that you forget everything else around it.

“…I won’t let you become him either, you know.”

The voice is so soft, so quiet, and so sudden after minutes of rhythmic swaying, that it takes Rogue a moment to realize it was Sting who said it.

Rogue had been looking and smiling faintly at Lector and Frosch dancing together near them, so when he glances back at the blond he realizes only then that the smile is gone from his features, replaced with a uneasy frown and a slightly furrowed brow. Sting is looking at Rogue’s shoulder and not his face, and only because they’re so close together can Rogue make out the faint pink to the other’s cheeks.

 _He’s embarrassed…?_ it clicks in Rogue’s head like a flipped switch, and he’d laugh out loud if he wasn’t so sure it would ruin the carefully placed moment. Not to mention mortify Sting even further.

But the smile that slowly forms on Rogue’s lips feels light and warm, as if heat were spreading throughout his entire body from that starting point. He can’t look away from Sting’s face, like he’s only just seeing it for the first time, and wants to remember every inch of it in order to pull it up from his memory whenever needed.

“…I know,” Rogue replies after a pause to let the words—the promise—sink in down to his bones, and he absently squeezes where their two hands are clasped together. Where it feels the warmest of all.

Sting’s eyes flicker to Rogue’s face for an instant before they look away again, and while the blush darkens slightly the blond is smiling again too. Uncontrolled and sincere and bright and somewhat childish like everything Sting is and Rogue can only wish he could be.

When the song draws to a close, and consequently their dance, Sting has regained his composure like the quiet vow never happened. He’s the first to bow extravagantly towards his partner as they separate, and Rogue follows suit with a little less mocking in his movement, but when they straighten back up they’re both grinning with almost-laughter.

Around them people change dance partners or move to the tables holding food and refreshments, and in the few seconds after that the next song starts to play from the small orchestra. Sting and Rogue look back to each other at the same time, but it’s Rogue who smirks lightly as he steps forward.

“Shall I lead this time?” he asks while offering out his left hand. Sting blinks once in some surprise, before the grin quickly returns to his features, and he laughs.

“…Sure thing, partner.”


End file.
